She would paint a pretty picture
But this picture had a twist
Her paint brush was a razor
And her paper was her wrist
She paints a pretty picture in red
While using her sharp paint brush she ends up finally dead
Her pretty picture fading quiet slowly on her wrist
The blood not racing through her
Age can no longer do harm
She painted a pretty picture, you see her story had a twist
Her mind was her razor
And her heart was her wrist
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Depression
PoetryThis it to those with depression I know it's hard trust me. And I know what it feels like and I wish the best for you.
